


not warriors

by itsjustcherries



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Spot Conlon is Bad at Feelings, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins-centric, Spot is in denial, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Spot Conlon, sprace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsjustcherries/pseuds/itsjustcherries
Summary: Nothing good comes from late night thinking.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	not warriors

It was late. That’s all Spot really knew. Well, he knew three things. It was late, he was worthless and very incredibly gay.

To him, those last two went hand in hand so really, it was two things. It was late and he was worthless.

His phone sat a few feet away from him on his bed. Spot himself sat curled up against the headboard, shaking. His hand absentmindedly running over the red mark on his face from hours before. From his brother. From his family.

He glanced over at the bottle of pills on his nightstand, debating whether he should unscrew the cap and down them all. That’d fix his problems, for sure.

Another part of him forced him to turn away and focus on the phone screen in front of him, lighting up every minute or so. He had been talking to Racer for the past two hours as he tried to calm down. Everything was going fine until he realized that he liked him. A lot.

His lockscreen was lit up with notifications from Race, mostly him trying to call. As his phone started vibrating again, he picked up and shakily answered the call.

“Spot?” the other voice asked.  
“Y-yeah?” he replied, trying to stop his voice from wavering.  
“What’s going on? Are you okay? You left the call so fast and it’s been fifteen minutes and I haven’t been able to get ahold of you until now,” Race explained and Spot could almost see the concerned look in his friend’s eyes.

Oh his eyes. Crystal blue. The prettiest thing he’d ever seen. They almost matched the colors on the flag he had hidden in his closet for years. They matched the sky when he was free with his friends. They were what he wanted to see before he closed his own and leaned in for a–

_He wasn’t supposed to think like that._

“Spot? Are you okay?” Race’s voice snapped him out of his own thoughts.  
He sighed. “Yeah. I’m fine. I’m fine. Just, talk to me about something, will ya?” he asked.  
“Of course!”

With that, the two stayed on that call, the bottle on his nightstand long forgotten as the night dragged on into morning and they both fell asleep, well, at least Race did. He’d been rambling on about cars, horses, anything that raced really and eventually passed out, leaving Spot alone on the call.

As he went to hang up the phone, quietly he spoke:

“I think I love you. And uh, _hey for what it’s worth, I think you saved my life.”_

If only he could see the smile one the other line.


End file.
